


Giving a Damn

by daasgrrl



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M, Missing Scenes, Slash, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-25
Updated: 2010-02-25
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daasgrrl/pseuds/daasgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rimmer still isn't convinced that being Ace is such a great idea.</p>
<p>"Missing scenes" from <em>Stoke Me a Clipper</em>. Originally intended to be a short snippety thing, but the whole thing spiralled out of control <strike>like a drunken ice skater on a roundabout</strike>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving a Damn

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much to **elynittria** for discussion, beta, and getting me into this mess *g*

Lister's hands were steady on the controls as they settled into a close orbit around the glittering belt. By now the container holding Ace's remains had drifted into its final resting place, and the homing beacon's single blinking light was indistinguishable in the combined glow of the others.  
  
"All those Rimmers." Rimmer's expression was a study in awe.

"They all did it," Lister said reverently. "They all became Ace and passed on the flame. Are you really going to be the one to break the chain?"

Rimmer stared out at the spectacular view for a long moment more. When he turned back to Lister, his face was alight with a fresh determination.

"Of course I'm going to bloody well break it," he said. "You really think I want to end up as one of _them_? A tiny metal box orbiting that planet forever as part of Rimmer's gigantic Ring of Failure?" He shook his head in wonder. "Ace _wanted_ me to see this? He must have been even crazier than I thought."

Lister swivelled around in his chair, eyeing him in sheer disbelief. "They're… they're not _failures_ , Rimmer. They're heroes."

"They're dead, _ergo_ , they failed," Rimmer snapped. "And not the kind of dead you come back from, either. Those things are coffins, not rest homes. They're not up there playing bingo and complaining the stars are too bright."

It was then that Lister realised Ace had perhaps critically underestimated Rimmer's potential for cowardice.

"That's not the point, man. Sure, maybe individually they're… not alive any more, but put them all together, and they're a legend. The legend of Ace Rimmer. Maybe he wanted you to see that you could be part of that too."

"Give up my life to be part of someone else's legend."

Lister didn't bother pointing out that Rimmer was, technically, already on borrowed time. "Not someone else's. Yours. They're all you, remember."

"I've told you before. They're not me. I'm me." He got up from his chair and stalked out of the cockpit.

"Rimmer, wait."

But he was already gone. Lister could hear the murmur of voices from the midsection, Cat's breezy tones and Kryten's respectful ones followed by Rimmer's deafening silence. A moment later Cat appeared and slung himself into the vacant seat, his orange suit challenging the planetary brilliance for dominance and winning. Lister smiled weakly at him.

"Hey, Cat. Can you look after her for a little while?"

"I always do!" Cat ran a quick hand over the console, and then leaned over closer to Lister, mock-whispering in his ear. "So, is Cinderella back there gonna take the job or what?"

Lister completed the procedure to switch over the main steering controls, not daring to meet the Cat's eyes. "Er… what do you mean by that, exactly?"

Cat looked at him pityingly. "I can sniff out a swirly thing at 80 clicks but you think I can't smell through a change of shiny clothes? Better go talk to him, bud, or we'll be stuck with him forever."

  
***

  
He found Rimmer in his own rest quarters, staring glumly into the mirror. The wig lay in a crumpled, furry heap in the middle of the floor. In Rimmer's hand was a small black device that he kept stabbing buttons on, to no visible effect.

"God, this thing is hopeless," he said, not otherwise bothering to acknowledge Lister's presence. "Apparently I'm stuck looking like the missing Bee Gee forever, or at least until we find Holly again."

"I can't believe you're trying to back out of this."

"And I can't believe anybody actually thought this would work in the first place." His mouth had taken on its familiar resentful twist. "You were right, Lister. Me as Ace? I don't blame you for laughing at the idea. It's ridiculous. Go on. Laugh away."

"Hey, no man, you've got it all wrong." Lister should have realised that Rimmer never forgot a slight, however well-intended. "We - I - thought it was the only way to get you to give it a chance. Reverse psychology and all that, y'know. Because if I'd told you straight up I thought you could do it you'd never have believed me, would you?"

Rimmer ignored him, and frowned at his reflected image again. "I want my H back. It's against regulations not to have it."

"Yeah, I'm making a careful note of that - finally something I can put you on report for," Lister responded automatically. "Anyway, I thought you hated that H."

"I did."

"But now you want it back."

"Yes."

"You know you're making about as much sense as a _Times_ cryptic that's been translated into Bulgarian."

Lister sat down on the edge of Rimmer's bunk and then stretched out on it with his boots up on the pillow, something that ordinarily would have brought Rimmer's wrath thundering down upon him. But today, nothing.  It worried Lister more than he cared to admit.

Finally Rimmer turned away from the mirror, only to begin pacing fretfully.

"It's what I am. It's all I'll ever be. A useless, cowardly hologram. I might as well still be soft light for all it matters."

"It's not all you are. Not anymore, anyway." Lister paused, then reconsidered. "Sure, maybe deep down you're still a petty, anal-retentive control freak whose idea of a good time is reclassifying the biscuit assortments, but… you've really changed, man. Look what you did to that AR knight - that was pretty smegging heroic."

Rimmer shot him a sharp look. "I'll bet you had something to do with that too."

"Me? I just saw what was left when you'd finished with 'im."  
  
He did his best to look the picture of outraged innocence, but Rimmer was already pacing again.

"It's no good, Listy. You can't manipulate me into being something I'm not."

Lister sighed and dragged himself out of the bunk again, moving to stand where Rimmer either had to stop pacing or physically shoulder him aside.

"Look, it's all you've wanted your entire life," he said, as Rimmer came to an abrupt halt. "To be somebody. Somebody who makes a difference, who _matters_. It's not just me; the entire _universe_ is expecting the return of Ace Rimmer."

"And what they'll be getting is me in a bad wig. Not to mention I'll have the life expectancy of a cancer-ridden mayfly who does drug deals on the side."

"It's not like nothing's ever tried to kill you before. You'll find your own way of handling it."

"Yes, I'll be the first Ace who's ever shrieked and run away with a blanket over his head."

"Just think about it some more, is all I'm saying."

Lister plucked the wig from off the floor, patted it down and blew on it, which made very little difference to its appearance. He handed it to Rimmer, who slowly turned it over in his hands. A variety of expressions flickered over his face before his jaw tightened and he flung the bundle onto a nearby shelf.

"This is really just your way of getting rid of me, isn't it?"

"What?" Lister wondered briefly if it were possible to get whiplash trying to follow Rimmer's train of thought.

"No, I see it now. This is perfect for you," Rimmer continued. "Perfect. It's what you've wanted all along. Then once you get Red Dwarf back you can replace me with whomever you want. You'll finally get your chance at Kochanski. Too bad you won't be able to touch her."

It took considerable restraint on Lister's part not to point out that Rimmer was doing an exceedingly good job of demonstrating why people would want to get rid of him in the first place. Only the memory of Ace and all those glowing coffins stopped him.

"Will you just back up for a minute and listen to yourself?" he said instead. "If I'd've wanted to get rid of you I would have done it ages ago. Even back on the ship, I could have persuaded Holly to switch you off if I'd really wanted to. Then on that psi-moon we could have skedaddled early on while we had the chance. Or we could have abandoned you to your own clones in that prison cell."

"So you _have_ thought about it," Rimmer said in bitter triumph.

"Oh for smeg's sake, Rimmer." The man was infuriating. "Look, you've made it pretty clear in the past that you'd dump all of us quicker than a syphilitic trophy wife for a shot at greatness. Now here's your chance."

Rimmer shook his head. "I can't do it, Lister. I just… I can't."

He went back to staring at himself in the mirror, refusing to meet Lister's furious glare.

"Okay," Lister said at last, thoroughly exasperated. "Okay, fine. I'm done trying to convince you. I'd better go let the Cat and Kryten know you'll be staying, then. Let them know the truth."

"Wait… " Rimmer's eyes widened suddenly, and he caught Lister by the arm as he turned to leave. "No, don't do that. Please. They'll hate me even more than they did before. Couldn't you let them go on thinking I'm Ace? Just for a little while longer?"

Repressing a small grin of victory, Lister picked up the wig and set it back on Rimmer's head. He adjusted it until it looked at least passingly presentable, then turned Rimmer back around to the mirror, where they surveyed Lister's handiwork together for a long moment, side by side.

"Then you'd better start acting the part."

  
***

  
Dinner was a mostly subdued affair; Lister didn't feel in much of a mood for talking, and his solemnity infected the proceedings. Rimmer, for his part, was uncharacteristically but sensibly quiet - while Ace could no doubt have been relied on for a good story, a spontaneous diatribe on the relative merits of tea cosies would probably give the game away immediately. And his reserve could easily be taken for a natural grief over the unexpected passing of his dimensional counterpart.

Only Kryten filled the silence by reminiscing, perhaps a little too fondly, about the many and various insults he had inflicted on the late (late) Rimmer, the frequent ingratitude Rimmer had shown towards his services, and his own carefully cultivated habit of accidentally 'forgetting' which foods Rimmer most detested.

Amazingly, Cat kept his mouth shut for most of the meal, but kept glancing at 'Ace' and shooting Lister meaningful looks that Lister did his best to ignore. Once, he got as far as, "So, bud, when did you say you'd be leaving?" before Lister kicked him under the table.

"Um," Rimmer said, before pulling himself and his baritone together. "I mean, I thought I'd stay another couple of days just to make sure you chaps were all right. You know, with poor Arnie gone and all."

"Hey, you don't have to worry about us - it's not like Alphabet Head did anything around here but keep the wear on the seats even," Cat remarked blithely. Rimmer glared at him while Lister hurriedly changed the subject.

  
***

  
That night, unable to sleep, Lister was drawn like a magnet back towards Rimmer's quarters, only to discover they appeared to have exploded in the interim. Many of Rimmer's personal possessions had been mislaid along with _Red Dwarf_ , but after one too many emergency evacuations Rimmer had taken the precautionary measure of moving a few items aboard Starbug for storage. It was one of the very few times his prudence had actually been rewarded.

Normally everything was kept neatly stowed away, but now the desk was covered with stationery supplies and small heaps of textbooks, many of them with their spines still uncreased. Piles of vid and music cartridges balanced on a chair, and Rimmer's slide and stamp collections covered the spare bunk. The closet doors were open, revealing reconstituted khaki uniforms that had never been worn and corresponding regulation black shoes polished to a brilliant sheen, shoe trees nestled within. In the middle of the floor stood the remains of Rimmer's wooden trunk, together with a bag of battered golf clubs, a large metal bust of Napoleon, and various rocks and less identifiable artefacts scavenged from one moon or another. Only Rachel was missing; Kryten had taken her away for a final disrobing and deflation after the service.

Rimmer himself sat on the edge of his bunk amidst the only clear space, surveying the jumble.

"Whoa, what happened here?" Lister asked. "Kryten's cleaning chip malfunctioning again?"

At first it appeared Rimmer hadn't heard, but then he slowly turned his head. "Not much to show for a life, is it, Listy?"

Lister shrugged. "I wouldn't know, man. I was never much into possessions, meself. Neighbourhood I grew up in, you could never be sure somethin' you had today wouldn't disappear tomorrow. So I don't hang onto much, except for the guitar. The rest of it… it's all just stuff, y'know?"

"Yes, that's very profound, thank you." Rimmer rose and slowly picked up the bust of Napoleon. He set it on the table, atop a pile of books. "They've all worked out I'm not Ace, haven't they?"

"Yeah, but I swear I didn’t tell 'em! It was Cat. Once he got over the shock, he sniffed right through you."

"And they just can't wait for me to leave, can they?"

"I wouldn't say that…"

"Why not? It's true. And it's made me realise how unbearable my life will be if I stay here."

"So, let me get this right… you wouldn't go when you thought _I_ wanted you to go, but now you're going because you've suddenly realised Cat and Kryten do?"

"I really don't care what a dishwasher with delusions of grandeur and an overgrown feline with the IQ of a _Price is Right_ contestant think about me. But I'd rather leave while I thought one of you still had the tiniest little bit of respect for me."

"Hey, of course I respect you, man. I've always respected you," Lister protested.

Rimmer gave him a look as pointed as one of his own over-sharpened 2B pencils.

"Well, most of the time," Lister clarified.

Silence.

"I just didn't show it much, that's all."

More silence, only louder.

"All right then, fine. Fine. Maybe sometimes, just _occasionally_ , mind, I've thought you were a weaselly, small-minded, annoying, slimy, neurotic, pathetic, mind-bogglingly pedantic pimple on the arse of humanity. But when it was important, you know, when it _mattered_ , you weren't so bad."

Unexpectedly, Rimmer smiled. It softened his features into something resembling Ace's.

"Thanks, Listy."

"You know the old Rimmer would have insisted on staying just to spite everyone."

"That's probably true." Rimmer's voice deepened as he self-consciously attempted an air of nonchalance. "Maybe I have changed."

Lister grinned. "Suits you, man."

Slowly, Rimmer surveyed the room in one long sweep, his hands on his hips.

"It's a small ship. I don't think I can afford any excess weight. But look after the trunk for me, will you?" Rimmer's mouth quirked at the corners as he glanced over at Lister. "Just in case you ever need some more firewood."

There was no overt edge to the remark, delivered as it was in Ace's good-fellow manner, but Lister still felt the guilt bubbling up from his memory.

"'Course I will. What do you want done with the rest?"

"It doesn't matter. Throw it out an airlock somewhere."

Lister nodded, knowing that he would do nothing of the kind. "So… where're you gonna go?"

"I'll probably leave that up to the ship. Apparently she's taken quite a fancy to me already," Rimmer said, throwing in a fairly credible head toss. "It's in her programming."

"At least you'll have someone looking out for you."

"I suppose so." Rimmer looked troubled for a moment, but then visibly shook it off and resumed Ace's persona. "And what about you, Davey-boy?"

The question caught Lister completely off guard. "Sorry? Me?"

"You remember I was originally brought back to keep you sane. Does this mean you're going to go crazy without me?"

Lister found Rimmer's expression of amused concern even more disconcerting than his physical and vocal transformation.

"Some might say it's a bit late for that already," Lister said, as lightly as he could. "But I'll still have Cat and Kryten for company. And who knows, if we ever track down Red Dwarf again, I can always get another one of you. The earlier model, so to speak."

"Which would only prove you'd gone quite mad."

"Yeah." Lister grinned, and then quickly sobered as his own psyche took him by surprise. "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but… I'm gonna miss you, man."

They looked at each other for a long moment, and Lister felt that maybe he should make some appropriate kind of gesture, a hug, maybe, but he was glued to the spot by sheer awkwardness. Rimmer looked away, swallowing hard, and then back again. Only then did it strike Lister that this was really happening. That there would be a time very soon when he'd wake up in the morning and Rimmer wouldn't be there at breakfast, pontificating over his yoghurt and hi-fibre cereal.

"I suppose this is it, then," Rimmer said quietly, and in that instant he sounded like himself again. "Death or glory."

It was obvious he wanted to say something else, and Lister waited him out as various expressions fought for the right to stake a claim on his features. Finally, Rimmer took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and met Lister's eyes squarely. When he spoke, it was in Ace's voice.

"Here's a soldier of the Space Corps who loves you, Dave. Wants to feel your arms around him, wants to carry the memory of your kisses into battle with him…"

Lister recognised the paraphrase at once, and found himself resisting the urge to laugh while nevertheless feeling himself turn a deep shade of crimson. He remembered the evening he'd screened the vid in the ship's theatre, insisting that everyone join him for the viewing despite Cat's and Rimmer's complaints that the five-minute preview they'd endured once in the Xpress Lift had been torture enough. Still, they'd turned up. Kryten had handed around freshly-made popcorn, then spent much of the movie sobbing discreetly into his hanky while Cat snored away in the back row. Rimmer had enthused mightily over the detailed historical recreation of an ancient civil war and sneered at the rest. But now it seemed he had been paying attention after all.

"Never mind about loving me," Rimmer went on relentlessly. "You're sending a soldier to his death with a beautiful memory. Kiss me, Dave. Kiss me - once."

"You're not… serious, man," Lister began, attempting to break the tension, but as Rimmer took a single step towards him it became clear that he was, in fact, entirely serious. Then Rimmer's mouth was on his, surprisingly soft and warm, and he was being kissed as he hadn't been kissed in over three million years, or possibly, ever. All the blood was rushing to his head, and for a few long seconds everything was heat and confusion with an unexpected minty aftertaste. For his part, Lister could only hope that Rimmer was partial to lamb korma and stale tobacco.

Then Rimmer let him go.

"I'm sorry, old chum," he said quickly, ducking his head away. "Can't think what came over me there. It was the moment, you see."

Lister reached out then and pulled Rimmer towards him by his ridiculous furry lapels, kissing him in a way Rhett Butler had probably only dreamed of.

"Lose the wig," he said.

Voice commands soon took care of dimming the lights and locking the door, and before long Lister was lying on his back, taking in the strange, angled view from Rimmer's bunk. The various collections of objects cast jagged shadows across the floor, creating the feel of an alien landscape. It was almost like being in a cave, sheltering on some exotic junk planet.

Then Rimmer tumbled down on top of him, still fully clothed. Their mouths met again and again in a kind of frenzied, messy desperation. It was a revelation; he had never seen Rimmer so blindly focused on anything that wasn't going to earn him a promotion. But before Lister had even had the chance to catch his breath, he felt Rimmer's body already shuddering helplessly against him, Rimmer's face contorting against his cheek. Lister held him close until the trembling died away, and then there was only Rimmer's humiliated whisper: "Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, it's okay," Lister soothed him. In fact, it was more than okay; it was incredible knowing just how much he was wanted. By way of a distraction, he began to finally struggle out of his boots and clothing. Rimmer only watched, saying nothing, until Lister suggested that he might like to try getting into the spirit of things. As Rimmer complied, Lister was somewhat startled to discover that the hologrammatic 'undress' subroutine apparently still worked perfectly and instantaneously. Rimmer immediately reached for the duvet to cover himself up again, but Lister stopped him.

He drew Rimmer's hand away, then, gently wrapping his own around it, and guided them together to where he felt they would do the most good. He marvelled at the realistic glide of flesh on flesh, and even more so at Rimmer's tentative acceptance. For a long time they explored each other in that narrow space, side by side, cramped and uncomfortable and not caring. Despite everything Rimmer still managed to look stunned, disbelieving.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Lister dragged himself on top of Rimmer, as exhilarating as surmounting Everest, and began to rock against him - slowly at first, and then with increasing urgency. Beneath him Rimmer awkwardly matched his rhythm, his eyes squeezed tight shut. And then Rimmer was clutching at him, babbling incoherently, and as the supernova building within Lister exploded in a white-hot flare and died, he hoped that in time he might even be able to forgive Rimmer for leaving.  
  
  
***  
  


The next day he saw Ace off with a casualness he was very far from feeling. There had never been any question that Rimmer would do his duty by the universe, even though they both knew the score; having left, each Ace would be physically unable ever to return to his own dimension. Which meant the odds were that this was a final goodbye. If Lister ever saw Ace again, it would most likely mean that 'his' Rimmer was now permanently orbiting that graveyard planet along with the rest of them.

But there were always ways and means. He'd said as much to Rimmer that morning, as they'd lain wrapped sleepily around each other in the narrow bunk. At the time he didn't know if he were trying to comfort Rimmer or himself. Maybe Rimmer would discover the physical restrictions didn't apply to holograms. Maybe in time new technology would make a return dimension jump possible. Maybe Rimmer could never come back but Lister would uncover a way to cross dimensions and find him - someday, somehow.

Still, for the time being Rimmer was gone, and the ship felt colder and emptier than ever before. But that didn't mean he was gone forever. Next year, or even tomorrow, the universe might just conspire to find a way of bringing them together again. And, as Lister well knew, tomorrow was another day.


End file.
